The Blizzard
by Nigel Yearning
Summary: An old pikachu was out on a hiking trip to remember his humble wild pokemon beginnings when a snowstorm came in. Snowed in, he had to keep his wits together in order to survive. Pikachu POV.
1. Chapter 1

So this happened to me a while back, I want to say that I was foolish and should've stayed at home. My friends and family had been worried but at least I survived. I may be old for my age, but if it weren't for my primitive instincts and my modern knowledge I wouldn't have made it through the blizzard.

It started off like any other morning on an early spring weekend. I, Tesla Westinghouse, an old mouse pokémon who enjoys the great outdoors. I was born in the wilderness, not here on Faraday Island, but in the faraway region of Kanto. Adjusting to human society was hard, but I did okay. However, I still wanted to maintain that wild connection. On occasion I would leave my former trainer's farm and hiked my way into the wilderness on foot, alone, with no sense of direction whatsoever.

A simple-minded pikachu would take nothing on hiking adventures, but not me. I had a small green backpack, made out of handcrafted leather that was dyed green to match Faraday Island's temperate environment. Inside was bright gray nylon that was stitched into the confines of the backpack, filled with custom-made pouches. It had essential survival tools, like firestarters, a USB rechargeable angled flashlight, first aid kit, protein bars and several multi-tools. It also contained my tablet which was connected to the Island's cellular network. I use it to stay in contact with my family and monitor what is going on back at home. To keep them powered, I had a portable solar panel setup with an 9000mAH energy storage and a USB-powered battery charger for the nickel metal hydrides and 18650 lithium cells. Last but not least, an emergency communicator to signal Mark, his father, and Gizmo to come rescue me if I get myself in a jam.

The hike to my usual stomping grounds wasn't that far. The island's interior was natural forestry compared to the ten kilometer border zone. Almost no development occurs here and food was next to impossible to find. The island's biome is a bit unusual. . Here, the weather never gets anywhere above 25 degrees Celsius and the weather always plummets way below zero. Big ancient conifers covered much of the landscape with grasslands and young spruce woods. I could see where the virgin forests end and where saplings began.

The island's denizens had a forest campaign going on for over fifty years. They were taking an array of the island's tree species and were planting them out in what used to be grasslands. The savannas marked the path of ancient volcanic lava flows from Mount Faraday, which had been silent for 500 years since the hotspot had cooled. I for one, had seen better diversity back in my day. I walked along the young shoots of spruce, maple, and oak trees. They were clustered around each other in a neat organized fashion. Smaller shrubbery was planted underneath them to help for nutrients. I could see some berry bushes and some mushrooms, all of which not edible. Viridian Forest had more resources and life, but not this Island. Too cold to grow anything outside of a greenhouse. Whatever vital nutrients there was had to be dug out below the lava flow layer. Faraday City had a specialized vertical agriculture system to feed its growing population, but they kept food stored away in case of hard times. Here, in the forests, environmentalists went to great lengths to cultivate wild fruit berries and plant them here with some success. Though it is frowned upon by the FEPA, due to the risk of invasive species.

Then the Dixierats came, everything changed. This clan of pichus, pikachus, and raichus came in from a freighter and invaded the island. They had evenly distributed themselves around the island, taking residence within the urban zone, mostly around the inner and outer rings of Faraday City. Here, they found themselves into the homes of caring people. Those who prefer to stay free range took residence within the woods, where they somehow gathered up food from the local environment.

Whatever success was gained, the Dixierats and non-chu pokémon benefited. There are at least a dozen clusters of Dixierat communities along with a mixture of smaller pokémon groups. None of them were no bigger than 150cm, not enough food to sustain a creature any larger. There hasn't been much tension between the species, everybody seemed to be getting along. Though the Dixierats tend to eat more than other pokémon, leading to an occasional skirmish. So far I kept an eye on both pokémon groups, I have yet to avert my gaze.

I walked through the ancient conifer forest, sticking to Dixierat trails. The trails are like any small pokémon trails, but they're only as wide as a raichu. A trained wilderness expert could tell this trail was mostly used by electric mice pokémon, random burnt marks that were spotted all over the trail were caused used by the chus when they shock their berries to soften them up, or from shocking random objects if curious. Sometimes they can get spooked and they'll shock whatever provoked them, which is most likely to be the branch of a bush. This can be problematic during wildfire season, especially in the conifer forests of the Frontier Zone. The Faraday Island Fire Department will come in and put out the blaze in less than five minutes. One time I've heard of a case where a single tree caught fire. Lightning would ground straight down the spine of a fat spruce tree and the core would smoulder. Sometimes, it would burn holes through the bark, which creates a chimney effect that kindles the burn into a full blown blaze, which can risk spreading to other trees. Sometimes the tree contains the fire and it fizzles out, or the firefighters drown it when they get there. They're rare, but they do happen.

The burn spots were a reassuring reminder of ancient chus from back in my day. A basic, instinctual habit built right into our subconsciousness. A reminder who I really was. Ever since I had become an educated chu, I had never felt the need to cause random burn marks on the ground. However, I still get paranoid like any other chu, especially if I hear a twig snap behind me. I kept on going down the trail, walking along on my two hind legs. I sense no pokémon activity in the area. Maybe the Wildchus were still asleep, once the season gets warm again this forest will have a bigger chu presence. I kept going on the trail, listening to the silence of the sleeping forest.

I came across a fork in the trail, splitting off into three directions. I turned right, it curved around and broke into a clearing. Up ahead was a river leading up to the water treatment plant at Mount Faraday. The river used to be part of an ancient runoff system from a long gone glacier. When Faraday Island's Army Corp of Engineers had built the water treatment plant years ago, they paved the old river system with concrete to increase flow and prevent erosion. From what I was told, the water treatment plant pumped in saltwater from the ocean and used the heat energy from a nuclear reactor to desalinate it. Then the water is filtered, treated, tested for radiation leakage before being dumped straight into the drinking water system. Since much of the wastewater is collected and re-purified, the excess water is dumped into the manmade river, which flows into Faraday's cities canals and fountains while also keeping the lakes and water table full.

I traveled up the river, keeping an eye out for hikers and pokémon. Warning signs that read, _Do Not Pollute the Water / Violators Will be Prosecuted,_ were posted every ten meters on both sides of the river. The FIPD does a good job in enforcing the regulation laws on the river and the sanitation crews make regular patrols to remove debris from the river. I wouldn't drink the water as it is, but I would boil it. I have heard and seen too many cases from my childhood where pokémon would get sick just by drinking the water. Even though they have good immunity against waterborne diseases, the diarrhea alone will kill a chu. I never trust natural flowing water, even if it is clear. There's no telling what's floating around in water that could ruin your day.

I hiked upriver, staying well away from the river's edge. Ahead was a drawbridge, the bridge was raised well above the river's waterline and built on concrete ramps. The Army Corp of Engineers liked drawbridge designs for the river. It helps them control people's movements in case of an emergency. There's a control box on both sides of a river and requires a hydraulic drill to operate the drawbridge gears. These drawbridges were designed to hold the weight of a heavy tank and were built to handle severe weather and sabotage. There aren't any girders underneath the bridges so you could grapple hook your way across, just a smooth concrete bottom covered with moss and mold.

This drawbridge in question was down, I walked across the bridge and made my way deeper into the Faradian heartland. Both Faradian humans and pokémon alike call this area the "Frontier Zone", because by Faraday Law no permanent structure should be built within the forest. These were protected lands, a national park in a sense, but far from it. Humans were not allowed to set up shop and call home, they couldn't legally build a shack and live in it. Pokémon on the other hand had free reign, and the Frontier Zone was under pokémon jurisdiction. I have full rights to do whatever the fuck I want on this land. Pokémon have power here, but the rikachu and PRA warlords regulate that power. Since I am their boss, that means I own the property unofficially. Temporarily to be fair, because it's my job.

I come out here at least once a month to get away from the drama in my life. My part-time job at the University of Faraday, my full-time job as the Head of Dixie, and all the bullshit in between. I'm a country chu, I like being rural, in the mud and stick. This is the world I was born in, not in a world of roads, restaurants, glass skyscrapers, crowded with people and pokémon, but one of earth, stone, wood, and water. Untamed wilderness. Civilization spoiled me, I sit on my ass and stuff my fat face with junk food while pokémon out in the sticks struggle to find a meal to eat. Don't get me wrong, some wild pokémon are better off than others, but in the end life is cruel. I know, I lived long enough to see all the hardships this world had to offer. So just to remember my roots and remind me who I really was, I come out into the wilderness just be alone.

I stepped into the thicket of the spruce forest, surrounded by skeletons of plant vegetation. My biggest mistake was to come out here after spring occurred, which was a dumb move. I didn't realize it right away, but I got a hint that something was wrong when I noticed the sky had an even gray hue and the wind was a little chilly. An ominous sign, and I was oblivious. Either due to old age or I was just getting careless, maybe overconfidence played a role. I convinced myself that I was well prepared, which tuned down my internal warning bell. Rather than turning back home when I had the chance, I kept going, convinced I had thought of everything.

I made it to a large clearing, a wide open space near the center of the Frontier Zone. I walked around to the edge and approached my hideout. Nobody standing outside could see the entrance, as it is covered up with live vegetation and surrounded by a thick log wall. I climbed over a small gap and stepped inside the sheltered burrow. Right behind the wall was a large pit filled with ash and charred wood, behind it were two vents reinforced with tin coffee cans to keep them from collapsing. The wall sits above on the gap, which not only acts as shelter, but as a heat reflector as well. I had dug out the pit to get the best out of my wood, it works really well and keeps the flames and light hidden from view.

I crawled inside the actual burrow. It was raised up high and was roomy, insulated with natural vegetation. Thick logs I had chopped down last summer lined the side wall, they look dried enough to be burned. I took off my backpack and sat it aside. I then grabbed armfulls of logs the size of my thigh and laid them out over the firepit. I filled the gaps between them with ash, then grabbed one log and baton it into sticks with my knife and a piece of wood. I laid that out evenly across my log platform, then got out my fatwood and shaved off slivers to form a tinder bundle. I made two tinder bundles, since this fire is wider than usual. The idea was to lit both ends of the firelay rather than just the middle. Heat will be coming from two points, rather than just one, and it also speeds up ignition time. I sat down my bundles at both ends of the log platform and batoned more sticks from a couple of more logs. I laid them evenly across my firepit, then took struck a match and lit my tinder bundles.

Once I got my tinder bundles lit, I dropped the match into the middle of my firelay then sat back and watch the flames grow. The fire consumed the tinder nests and absorbed the kindling. I could start feeling the heat it was giving off. I let it burn for a moment, then started batoning more logs into sticks. I kept feeding the two fires until it fused into one, then I waited for the coals to form. There was something about watching fire burn. Fire is dangerous, and yet it can be controlled. I wondered how humankind reacted to the invention of fire, what kind of techno revolution it had to get to its current point. For my species, fire was something new. My parents and recent ancestors hadn't used it, no need to since we were in a burrow sharing our body heat during cool periods. I wondered how they would react when they hear I had mastered the ability to control fire, terrified perhaps.

Once the fire started burning into the log platform, I used a stick to spread the ashes around. Next I got out my canteen, pulled out its cup, and filled it with water. I then added a packet of tea inside before setting it on the fire. I had no knowledge of pathogens in my childhood. My parents knew that some water sources can be drunk from and not in others. Waterborne disease wasn't that bad since we chus have robust immune systems, but on occasion one chu would dehydrate to death due to camper's diarrhea. Sometimes when my parents would go foraging in someone's garden, my siblings and I would take a drink from the water spigot sticking out of the ground. We knew that the water coming from the spigot was safe, but we didn't know why. All we know is that the water from the spigot wouldn't make us sick. We filled our bellies up with clean water before eating the vegetables. Since we get most of our water from the fruit we eat in the wild, finding sources of water wasn't always a problem.

When I noticed my tea starting to boil, I used two sticks to pull the cup out of the fire and set it aside to cool. I added in more sticks, I watched the fire burn for a moment before getting out my tablet. I know, this is nature, and here I am using a tech gadget. I have to stay in contact with the outside world. I am in an area of the island that contains the least signs of civilization, if something goes wrong out here I would be in big trouble. I opened up my messages and located my group.

The built-in messaging app can be accessed not only on portable devices but on notebook laptops, video phones, and digital tablets and pocket-sized communicators. My long-time best friend Matthew Kissinger, his son Commissioner Emmett, his grandson Mark, and my late trainer's grandson Andrew Westinghouse were all in the same group. I had told them that every time I would go out into the wilderness, or leave the island for that matter, I would stay in touch with them through the messaging system. I know the emergency beacon is overkill, but it's for emergencies only and I want some luxury to use while I'm out here. However, since I wished to be left alone. I would only contact them around six hundred hours and eighteen hundred hours, twice a day, just to report in. Even if I have to stop what I was doing just to send out a text message.

I opened up the messaging app and sent a single message: _"Made it to my spot, set up a fire and boiled tea. All is good and nothing worrying to report."_

I turned off the tablet after after sending the message and stuck it back into my backpack. I sat by the fire and let it warm me up, then I got down to lunch. The MRE was supposed to be a cheesy macaroni. I added in some water from my canteen and used my camping utensil to eat it. MRE are not the best appetizing. Some people say it taste like wet garbage, especially the vegetable varieties. I had experience from eating out of the garbage, I can tell you that it sounds just about right. But I don't mind, my dad always says that you eat what you can get a hold of cause there's no telling when the next meal will come around. I had to get used to eating a lot of unappetizing things, so I don't mind the taste of wet garbage.

Once I got that down, I tossed the empty bag into the fire and leaned against the wall of the burrow. Every time I come out here after I hike, I always get something in my belly before having a nap. I'm old and walking is a pain, and I'm a lazy chu who likes sleeping so a nap is always a must. I laid back and rested for a while.

 **. . .**

When I woke up, there was still enough daylight to do a few things. So I got up, grabbed my multi-tool hatchet and set out into the woods. I wanted to gather up some kindling and tinder. I had plenty of firewood but not enough material for a fast flame. I set out and walked to a conifer area where I began collecting twigs and pine cones. I grabbed armfuls of it, since pine wood contains a lot of oils that could burn. I was also reducing the fire risk out here by picking up all the dry material that would fuel a forest fire. Since I was a small chu, I couldn't grab the sticks hanging off of the trees and bushes. I was forced to pick kindling off the ground, some of the twigs and branches might be waterlogged but I had to make due with what I got. The oils in the wood should help it burn as such.

I got back to my camp and dumped the twigs by the fire. The sky got darker, might as well pay a visit to the river to get some water to boil. I went back down the direction I walked to and made it to the river. I took off my backpack and pulled out my big stainless steel water bottle. I wrapped my hands around the straps and unscrewed the wide-mouth lid, then dunk it into the water. Once it was full, I capped the lid and make a quick scan of my surroundings. One thing I don't like about the river was that it was open territory going both directions, not much cover to speak of. I didn't want to get caught exposed out here. Hiker or not, my pikachu instincts wouldn't allow it. So I hightailed it out of there and zigged zagged my way back to my camp, just in case I was being followed.

When I got back, I unscrewed the lid and removed the straps before sitting the bottle in the fire. I added in more kindling and a log, then I set out one final time to the pine forest. This time I located a dead tree, it had died of some sort of bark disease and was now rotting. I chopped it down with my multi-tool hatchet. Not an easy feat when you're the size of a midget, but I got the job done. I stepped back and watched the tree tip over before crashing on the ground in a silent thud. I then whipped out my saw blade on the hatchet handle and cut a couple of small log-size pieces. I packed my hatchet away and carried those log pieces back to camp.

I sat one of the log pieces down on the kindling bundle and got out my knife, I batoned the logs into four sections of wood. I eyed my water every now and then, waiting for it to boil. Within ten minutes the water started to simmer, then it started boiling out the top. I grabbed a stick and nudged the bottle out of the fire, I then used my multi-tool hatchet to pick it up by the bottom and sat it against the wall to cool. I looked up at the sky. It had a dark gloomy gray color to them, the sun had set, it meant that it was almost time for bed.

I got out my tablet, boot it up, and typed in a check-in text message. I noticed I received one from Mark, it read: _Found a camp not too far from your location. A group of hikers, judging by the frequencies of their communicators and tablets I'm guessing around four people. You can avoid them if you want, or they might have something that you like. Just saying, it's up to you._

I didn't reply to the message, instead I send out the usual check-in message. I then opened up my school email. Some of my students had sent me messages about school-related things, questions on research papers, tests, or just in general. I wrote several replies back to them, archived the emails, and then checked my personal email. Several messages from friends, including a few from my rikachus. Just daily reports about their lives, I replied to some of them and then archived the rest. Once my inboxes were clean, I went back to the messaging app and opened up the coordinates Mark sent me. It showed my current location as well as the coordinates to the camp. I'm guessing a five kilometer hike to the northeast. The camp was a little too close to a nearby Wildchu colony. Somewhat of a concern. It could mean that these people were poachers looking to slaughter my blood line and gut their bodies for parts to sell on the black market, or they're just hikers on a day out. I trust that Mark said it was hikers, but he could be wrong.

I turned off my tablet and stuck it back inside my backpack. I then threw a few more logs into the fire before picking up my steel bottle and filling up my cup and canteen. I boiled up this time some hot cocoa while eating through another MRE, I drank the cocoa down before taking a few gulps of water from my canteen. I then refilled it with the water from my steel bottle, then cleaned out my cup. I packed everything back inside my backpack, sealed it up and took it back inside the burrow where I retired for the night. The human camp stayed on my mind for a while, I think it was something to check out for tomorrow. Who knows what kind of goodies they might have.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

My internal clock chimed at six in the morning, time for another update. I sat up, pulled out my tablet, booted it up and sent out the usual text message. _Survived another night, nothing to report._ I then checked on my school and personal emails. Not that many emails this morning, some of the emails were acknowledgements of the ones I had sent the night before. I cleaned up both inboxes and turned off my tablet, I stuck it back inside the safety of my backpack and pulled out an MRE breakfast. The fire pit I had laid out was reduced to mere coals, but still burned hot. I added in some more fuel and boiled up a cup of tea. As I ate my MRE packet, I stared out into the wide open savanna, the morning was gloomy, but peaceful. I felt I had the whole Island to myself. My thoughts then drifted over to the Wildchu colony near the human camp Mark had discovered. If they were at risk, then I had to take action. I wouldn't go out there without a rikachu, but I didn't want any company. I wished to be left alone, but I had to make a decision.

I decided to go check on the Wildchu colony before swinging around to investigate the hiker camp. I need to get a good idea what was out there, the best way to do that was to interview the Dixierats residing there, they might have more information on the people camping nearby. I moved my tea out of the fire to let it cool, then finished off my MRE before tossing the packet into the fire. I waited until my tea had cooled before I drank some of it. I was still tired, so I slept against the wall for another hour. The gloomy world changed back into a bright overcast day. I drank the rest of my tea, cleaned out the steel cup, then repacked my things into my backpack. Before I left my camp, I drank down most of my canteen, refilled it with my steel bottle, then I made one giant piss into the fire. Clear urine, just what I want to see. I don't plan on coming back till evening, so the last thing I need was to learn that I accidentally started a forest fire in a protected wilderness territory. My long-ass piss wasn't enough to put out the fire, but I felt assured that it should be enough to keep the flames down while I am away.

I put on my pack and left camp, making my way toward the colony. I stuck to the edge of the large savanna, I didn't want to be spotted by humans or pokémon. Again, I was out here for solitude, not to chat. The wind wasn't blowing, which played to my advantage. I walked around the large clearing and stepped onto another pokémon trail. The trees were taller and thicker than in my area, an older part of the Frontier Zone. The trail hadn't been that used as much and I didn't notice any burned marks in the ground. My ears swiveled, listening for signs of life. I walked fast, not wanting to stay in one area for too long. After walking the first two kilometers, my legs were tired and I had to stop to rest. I pressed my back against the trunk of an old oak tree and took a deep breath. I drank down some more water, panting. I was not in the best shape as I should be, my heart was pounding hard against the wall of my chest. I pushed myself a little too hard, but I had a lot of ground to cover. I rested for ten minutes, then got back on my hind legs and continued walking.

Outsiders within the Wildchu colony could not see the burrows that were so well hidden within the hills and trees. The engineers who designed the plots of land constructed the burrows out of concrete. They were all raised and heated with coils, powered by some nearby powerlines. All the burrows were dug out of the hills, constructed out of concrete, and buried under topsoil, trees, and shrubbery. When a chu crawls into a burrow, they had to climb up rather than climb down. This raised platform helps trap hot air and allow heavy carbon dioxide gasses sink. There was also a small trap door in the roof that lets in air, it also acts as a natural air conditioner during the hotter months. Nearby wells were drilled and hand pumps sunk into the aquifers, that way the chus have access to clean water and don't have to worry about disease that much. The population of the colonies were low since most of the Dixierats were within the border zone, so there was always enough food available to keep the chus fed and happy.

When I reached the colony, I didn't see many chus right away, but after walking around one of the burrow mounds, I could see some pikachus started popping out of their holes. Strange, these chus were descended from me, and yet I was from another generation. I was their leader, I founded the Dixieland Nation, but it wasn't my country or my culture. It was their country and culture, and I'm just some old fogey from a forgotten generation. Despite the massive age gap, I was well loved by the Dixierats. I think they gotten the fact into their heads that I was a chu just like them. When I approached one of the pikachus, it gave a cute smile before crawling up to me, cooing its heart out. The mouse pokémon gave me a hug and hung on to me like I was an old friend. I rubbed the pikachu's cheeks and ears. Chus loved to get their ears and cheeks rubbed, this chu cooed and sighed. Just as he released his hug, four pichus crawled up to me. They looked like siblings, I could tell by how they smiled and the way their black marble eyes gaze at me. I made a warm smile, they chirped with excitement.

The closest one crawled up to me and I rubbed its ears and cheeks. It slipped into a trance-like state, almost toppling over. I sat down and cradled the chu and groomed its back. I recalled old memories how my own mama groomed me out in the woods. She had a method of licking my fur to get the toughest debris out, especially around my ears. Later on in life, I wondered how she hadn't gotten sick from ingesting all that crap. These days I would use a comb, I would not put my mouth on any pokémon's fur. No need, because I have a comb and fresh running water at home and it works way better than simple licking.

I spent an hour or two grooming pichus and pikachus alike. They shared me stories and local events, events that I was never aware of. It was a culture that was different from my childhood, but yet so similar. These chus had moments where they get together, dance, sometimes go on long trips around the island. On occasion a chu from the cities would come back to visit friends, or would leave for the cities for the winter. The migration pattern would vary every year, but most of the chus who reside here were permanent residents and they stay put for the most part. Which in turn means all the money that went into building the burrows was well spent.

After I greeted most of the chus, a big burly raichu appeared. The lightning rod tip was snub-nosed, indicating the raichu was a female. She came up to me and gave me a firm hug. In the old days, some raichus were bullies. Not a Dixierat raichu though, as she hugged me I felt protected in her arms. Her fur was warm and soft, even though she smelled like shit.

" _How are you doing?"_ I asked.

" _Very good, Tes, how are things?"_

" _I'm investigating a human camp, Mark said it should be a group of hikers but I'm checking on it just to be sure."_

" _Very thoughtful of you, we had a pichu spy on them earlier. They look friendly enough, and they have a lot of food in storage."_

I nodded. _"Okay."_

" _However, they stuck all the good stuff inside a burlap sack and suspended it in the air between two trees. Chus can't reach them without making noise and our best climbers live in the cities."_

" _Do they keep any food on the ground?"_

" _Just their soda pops, but they keep their coolers close to their tents. None of the chus want to take the risk in getting caught digging in their soda bins."_

Dixierats tend to have a guilty-conscious, it's what keeps them compliant and adorable. They know what is right and wrong, and getting caught will wreck havoc on their poor little hearts. The only things the Dixierats consider for politics is pessimism and optimism, both ideal viewpoints are polar opposites of the other and govern every chu's way of thinking. Pessimism is the consideration of bad consequences, optimism on the other hand refers to the consideration of good and pleasureable outcomes. The pessimists tend to be loyal and are easily controlled, while the optimists tends to be deviants. I was somewhere in between the two, since I have seen the miseries of the world and knew what true happiness is. So the prospect of looting somebody's food stash didn't bother me one bit. I didn't say that out loud to the raichu, wildchus tend to be pessimists and will get worried. Instead, I nodded, saying, _"Good to know, I'll be sure to keep that in mind."_

The raichu smiled, _"If you can, try to get the bag down. We have some pregnant chus that need the extra food, just don't get caught."_

" _I've been a wild pikachu since birth, I'll be sure it stays that way."_

The raichu threw its arm toward the west. _"The camp is that way, just follow the trail until you see the human symbol scratched onto the bark of a tree, it will be just around the corner."_

I shook the raichu's stubby paw, then she walked off. I watched her crawl back into her burrow, when she was out of sight I turned around and left the colony for the human camp.

 **. . .**

The pokémon trail hadn't been used that often, rain had washed away much of the footprints. I could make out two sets of big rabbit-like feet of a raichu, perhaps they belonged to the same chu. I kept walking down the trail, taking me farther and farther away from the colony and found the markings on the tree. It was a simple stick figure, carved into the bark, with an arrow pointing toward the direction of the camp. The Dixierats were starting to understand symbols on their own, which was nothing new. Mice pokémon were smart creatures, even the chus who live in my household understood signs and symbols like any other person. But a mouse pokémon still had to be taught, perhaps the parents and grandparents of lab rats had inherited some knowledge from them, or maybe Andy had taught a few chus himself. Whatever the case may be, it felt reassuring to know that not all chus were that dumb.

I walked around the tree and made my advanced toward the camp. I didn't have to walk far, I could make out the outline of a couple of green military tarps supported by wooden sticks. I quickly crawled over toward some bushes and perched myself at the edge of a hill, my back being covered by a thick oak tree. The plants had yet to bloom so there weren't that much concealment and my piss yellow fur was bright as the sun. My green backpack was helping more than the surrounding environment, I covered my face and arms with mud, then got a good look at the human camp.

The tents were indeed military tarpaulins, all constructed out of military-grade rubber and plastic, staked down with metal spikes. I could see at least three coolers placed near the tents, just what the raichu had said. I could see in the back two pickup trucks, both were painted olive green and fitted with beefy off-road tires. A large fire spit was burning, suspending a pot of boiling water over the fire. Surrounding the fire were four human beings seated in homemade bushcraft chairs. All appeared to be in their late teens and were wearing military BDUs of the Faradian National Guard. I couldn't make out the regiment insignias on their shoulders, but I had no problems seeing the purple Faradian flag on their arms. I guess that these grunts were on spring break, enjoying the fresh outdoors, drinking beer, having a good time. I could also see that they were armed, the faint shine suggested they were .45 Desert Eagles. A beast of a gun that can stop engine blocks and punch through basic body armor. Mark explained that these guns can be left out in a river between three to ten days and they still can fire, get thick sandy mud in the firing mechanism and they can still fire, club somebody in the back of the head and they can still fire, just so long as you clean it after use. If I'm not careful, I could get my head blown clean off. I've seen the pictures of mice being shot by a .45-caliber bullet, let's just say it doesn't make them any prettier.

It wasn't hard finding their food stash, in fact there were two of them. Bright safety orange bags were suspended between several trees with 550 paracord, somewhere around a height of seven meters. The bags were made out of thick plastic, they look like construction trash bags used for highway cleanup. I figured that was their day job, these types of bags aren't available at hardware stores but in government-runned facilities. The bags were placed far enough from the camp where pokémon wouldn't just waltz right in, but close enough to where they could see them. Whatever the bags may be, it had to be filled with food. Since Faraday Island is in peace-time, the soldiers will be off-guard and I might get a chance in looting the bags.

So I watched the soldiers for a bit. Studying their movements, taking mental notes. The soldiers would step away from the camp for a while to chop firewood or to take a leak. I had no idea if they had any other plans for this area. I saw no signs that they had any plans on hiking, since they brought in a lot of stuff. Instead, I watched the soldiers chop down trees to make outdoor furniture. I watched two of them fell this enormous oak tree near their camp and trimmed the trunk with its branches, they then split the logs into sections, then split them in half along the grain. I watched them muscle the logs into boards, then assembled them into a picnic table. I was impressed. They didn't use any nails, instead they use simple vine cordage and wooden stakes to put their furniture together. One soldier brought more than enough paracord and even strung out a laundry line to hang clothes. The grunts were enjoying the outdoors alright, relying on their ingenuity to keep themselves entertained. How bored can you get?

When it got around the afternoon, I left the human camp and stepped away to take care of my own needs. I walked back toward the Wildchu Sect Colony and stopped just at its edge. I then walked off the trail before setting up a small camp. I first gathered up some dry wood from my surroundings, dug out a spot for a campfire, then loaded it up with tinder and kindling. I lit the bundle with a simple match, then began building my fire. I kept it low as to avoid attention from the Dixierats but big enough to provide me warmth. I boiled up some tea, ate an MRE, and then ate another MRE. I felt confident about the food the human camp had, I was determined to seize their shit. Not the right thing to do, but I'm a pikachu, and we pikachus are pests. I will stick to my roots out in the woods no matter what.

Once my fire burnt down into hot embers, I sipped my tea and drifted off into distant thought, listening to my surroundings. Dixierats chirp in the distance, checking up on one another. A thriving mice pokémon colony in the middle of fucking nowhere, reminding me of the good old days of my past. I held that thought for a moment, then drank the rest of my tea. I packed up my things and grabbed a stick, then began stoking the ashes. Heat bloomed from the coal bed, pumping out a surge of energy. I stood up and let the smoke drift over my body, making sure it coated every strand of my fur. I even took some ash and lathered it around my feet and armpits, getting that burnt leaves smell deep around my hide. I then took my shovel and dug a hole, I then dumped the ash and coals into the fire before letting out a monster piss to quench it. A slight tint of yellow, not good. After I emptied my bladder, I drank down my entire canteen and refilled it with water from my bottle reserve. Now refreshed, I filled in the hole, put on my backpack, then broke camp.

I had the thought of sleeping off the rest of the night, so I returned to the Dixierat community and searched for a vacant burrow. The only way to tell if a burrow is vacant is that the smell was stale rather than shit. I found one such burrow just on the edge of the chu colony. I crawled into the hole and then up a small ladder. The burrow walls were made out of solid concrete, the whole space was empty save for the bedding of the previous owner. The bedding had long since decayed, nothing more than sticks. I grabbed the sticks and tossed it out the ventilation hole. I then sat down in the bowl of the burrow and sat my backpack aside, I then fell asleep for a while.

 **. . .**

I woke up from my nap around 1800 just to stretch my legs and get a drink. I booted up my tablet and messaged everyone that I had checked up on the Wildchus. I didn't tell them where I was, the GPS did the job for me. I then turned off and put my tablet away before getting a drink out of my canteen. I was getting bored again, so I put on my backpack and stepped out to mingle with the Dixierats a bit. A lot of the chus walked up to me and just sniffed my fur, but a few just wanted to chat. I asked if they had any complaints about anything. The only major issue was food. They complained about having to ration it because there was just not enough. Even though they would get an occasional shipment of fruits and vegetables from markets that were rejected due to minor imperfections, they devoured them the moment they arrive. The chus wanted protein from meat products, they were getting tired of eating only berries and broccoli every single day.

Besides that, the only minor issue was boredom. Nothing happens out in the Frontier Zone. Ray would come out on occasion and entertain the Wildchus with music and tunes. But he almost never comes out during the colder months, so the wildchus had to resort to other means. I asked if any of the chus knew how to read, only two raised their hands. They said they had some aftermarket paperbacks on hand but they were getting worn and old. I made a mental note to ask Ray if he could buy a few books from the bookstore and come out here to deliver them. One chu had a weather radio, but the batteries were dead. He kept it going by charging the built-in nickel metal hydride battery but he could only get a few minutes out of the radio without overloading the battery. Some chus have gotten so bored that they left for Featherbelly's shop in Faraday City, most hadn't come back. Those who do brought back all sorts of stuff: books for the literates, (which I doubt they're even literate), a radio with batteries, some potted meat, and "entertainment pictures" courtesy of FB herself. But these chus don't always bring enough, so there's always a struggle on who gets them first.

So far things had been peaceful despite the inconveniences. A few chus were looking forward in nosing into the nearby human camp in search for goodies. However, they were well aware of the risks involved and so they hadn't attempted a raid. They had enough food and water to keep them going, but they always desired more. However, they do remember the harsh memories of poachers taking potshots at them from back in the day. To them, this wasn't worth getting shot over anymore. I shrugged, Dixierats are guilt ridden and don't travel too far from their comfort zone. But for me, I'm willing to take the risk. I had been doing it for ventured, nothing gained. So I wrapped up my visit by saying a few goodbyes. A few Dixierats didn't want me to leave, so I reassured them that I will come back some other day. I looked up at the sky, the sun was going down. Time to do some homework.

I walked back to the human camp and got myself situation in the same position. The humans had gathered back around the campfire, cooking up some dinner. I could smell potted meat and vegetables rising from the pot hanging in their firespit. My pikachu instincts kicked in, my mouth watered and my belly grumbled. I couldn't help it. I tried to stay focus, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the food the soldiers were cooking. I tried drowning out the thoughts by drinking down my entire canteen, filling up my stomach with water. That helped somewhat, but enough to keep my instincts in check.

The world closed into blackness as the sun slipped below the horizon. The only sources of light were the the soldier's campfire and the faint glow of Faraday City's skyline to the north. The grunts did nothing special, they just sat and talked, drinking beer. One guy had finished wrapping up the leftover food inside one of the orange bag and tied it back up the tree. I watched as he tied the back onto the rope. I then noticed he picked a bell off the ground and tied it to the rope. Not a surprise. The one bag with the bell had to have already opened food and the other bag just held canned good and sealed wrapped snacks. The soldier walked back to the tree where he pulled in the paracord. The rope straightened, resuspending the bag in the air.

The grunt rejoined his comrades where they finished their beer. They then finished up their dinner and threw their scraps into the fire. One by one the soldiers crawled into their tarpaulin tents and into their sleeping bags. The remainder just sat in his chair, staring at the fire for a moment. He then got up and walked back to the tent, then went to sleep. I waited for five, ten, twenty minutes, just being sure that the soldiers were asleep. I got confirmation when I started hearing soft mellow snores purring from the tents. Satisfied that they were asleep, I then went to check on the orange bags.I could tell what the contents were just by looking at the bags. I could make out rectangular shapes sticking out at one, cylindrical shapes at the other, and nothing from the bag with the bell. The ones with rectangles were obviously boxes and chip bags, which didn't interest me. The other bag had to be canned goods, which held the protein. I could still smell the stew from the soldier's dinner. If they ate V-meat meat earlier, they had to have more stashed away. I first worked on several ways to approach this.

I could cut the line and let the bag drop. But the noise will stir the soldiers. I had no idea how much beer they had drunk, they had tossed all their empty cans into the fire. I was not going to take the risk that they could be heavy sleepers, so cutting the line was out of the question. Climbing the tree and rope is also a possibility, but the rope is too thin and I'm too old for climbing. I could fall and hurt myself, the last thing I need out here is a broken hip and my family would not let me back out here after an injury like that.

I decided to untie the lines and lowered the bag to the ground, similar to how the grunts took it down for dinner. I inspected the lines and saw both lines were tied just a meter up from the base of the trees. Both lines were wrapped multiple times and only held in place with a single stick. No complicated knots, which would work havoc on my arthritic hands. I grabbed the stick and carefully unclip it from the rope, I then jump down and uncoiled the rope. I got up to the final wrap before I slowly release the tension from the rope. I watched the faint outline of the orange bag lower to the ground. I bit my lip as it made its way down.

Next thing I knew, the bag slipped and it crashed to the ground. It sounded like a heavy _thunk_ in the silence, I felt my skin crawl. Well, shit. I done goofed. With little time to waste, I rushed up to the bag and ripped it open. I pulled out a four-sided can with a pull top. My eyes lit up. Victory Meat, or V-meat for short. What a find! I stuffed the bag with all the V-meat I can grab, then grabbed other goodies such as soda and candy. I heard the soldiers stirring in their tents. I turned. One of them had a flashlight out. I put my backpack on and dashed for the forest, I'm not sticking around to see how they would react to their pilfered food stash.

 **. . .**

Returning to my refuge was a challenge. The world had plunged into a deep shroud of darkness, so black that there wasn't any color. Overcast skies covered the stars, further creating the sense of dread. The only way I could navigate through the dark forest were the shining lights from Faraday City. The clouds were reflecting the ambient lights of Faraday City, tripling the light pollution. This gave me a sense of direction, but only around clearings. My natural night vision helped a lot, the world became bright enough to where the environment started to become familiar. After double-checking Faraday City's ambient light pollution, I managed to find my way.

When I got back to my private burrow, my legs were stiff and my back felt sore. The fire had burned down into ash, but I could still feel its heat. I was tired, I didn't feel like enjoying my price. That could wait for tomorrow. Instead I threw in a couple of logs and a bundle of twigs between them, letting the heat from the firepit to rekindle the blaze. I let out a final yawn before climbing into my burrow and dropped onto my bedding.

The next morning, I felt refreshed but felt really cold. My body was stiff and my hands and feet were numb, on top of that were the aches and pains from my overworked muscles. I felt miserable, I needed to warm up. I climbed up onto my feet and scooped up my backpack, I took it outside and stumbled into a surprise. I dropped my bag.

A thin layer of white snow had formed overnight.

Fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

A sea of white covered the world. More snow were still falling, and it was getting heavy. I swore in my pikachu speech. The problem with Faraday's weather pattern was that snowstorms tend to occur without warning. Tropical storms tend to form in the southwest, and if they roll in during periods of cold they don't drop rain, they drop snow. This storm was dropping tons of it, which was bad because I didn't have any winter gear on me. If I started hiking my way back home, my feet, hands, and tail would freeze, and it's a long hike back home.

My internal clock told me it was roughly five-forty, I had some twenty minutes for the next check-in. Right now I needed to get warmed up. My aging frame may have enough fat and fur to insulate me, but not much fuel in the tank to burn. So I grabbed a nearby stick and poked it through the sheet of snow that covered the firepit. A fizzle of steam came out. I turned over the tinder and logs I had set out last night, the areas touching the firepit were charred black from the heat but they hadn't ignited. I went back inside the burrow and grabbed armloads of logs, then stepped out and laid them across the firepit. I dumped all my twigs on the platform and batoned more sticks into manageable pieces. Snowflakes pelt the back of my neck, melting upon contact. Through it all I cursed and swore with a mixture of human and pokémon words and slangs. My temper heated me up, but I knew that was fool's gold. Temper steals energy, and I didn't have much energy to give.

I grabbed my magnesium rod out and my survival knife's sheath. I placed the back of the blade against the rod and scraped off some shavings into the bundle. My feet and tail started going numb. I bit my lower lip and readjusted my stance, I then placed the tip of my magnesium rod against the tinder nest and scrape down hard with my knife. A flash of sparks bellowed from the rod and caught the intricate fibers of the tinder nest, I gently blow on the embers and they soon burped out a small flame. I then scooped up the smoking tinder nest and placed it deep into my pile of kindling, the flame slowly grew and spread.

From there I just kept batoning more sticks and feeding the small blaze. I felt the fire's heat begin warming my core, hot blood rushed back to my feet and tail and I was rewarded with a thousand needle pricks against my skin. When I was sure my fire could hold its own, I got out my steel bottle and poured some water into my cup. I then shook the bottle, half empty. I stuck my cup into the fire before filling it up with snow. Problem using snow as a water source is that it doesn't hold much water, since snow is mostly air. Ice would be a better source, but I had more than enough snow to boil around me. So after I filled up my steel bottle with snow, I stuck it in the fire, then grabbed my canteen and filled that up with snow as well. I took the canteen out of its sheath and stuck that into the fire. Once my water production line was up and running, I pulled out my tablet and turned it on.

The tablet felt cold, which made me worried for a moment that it might've frozen overnight. It booted up without any problems. I sent out a text message to my usual recipients. _Started to become snowed in. Got a fire up and running and started boiling water. Exercising caution._ I sent the message and checked the weather app. Sure enough, there was a winter storm on its way, and it was coming in fast. I grabbed my emergency beacon out of my pack and hit the caution button. An orange light glowed, followed by a loud beep. When I released my thumb, the tone went silent, it took another few seconds of processing before the orange light went dark.

The fire was warming me up like a charm, I decided to crack open my pilfered food. Getting food in me was a must, the cold was sapping my body heat and I'm burning precious calories just to stay warm. Before I started eating, I checked on my water. The snow I had crammed inside my bottle, cup, and canteen had melted and were starting to boiling. I scooped up more snow and shoved it into the bottle and canteen, I picked up my boiling cup of water with two wooden sticks and sat it aside. I reached into my backpack and pulled out some V-meat, I peeled the lid open and cut chunks of the pinkish meat out of the can with my knife and dumped each piece inside the cup. I added the cup back into the fire, let it boil for another minute, pulled it out of the fire and dug in with my hobo tools. The slimy fat and oil raked across my taste buds. I had been eating nothing but MREs for two days straight and the change of taste and texture reinvigorated my body with energy. After eating all the V-meat, I let the cup cool a bit longer before drinking down the leftover oils.

I sat there for a long while and considered my options. I could wait out the storm and hope for rescue, or make the trip back home and risk getting frostbite in my ass. I closed my eyes and took a mental stock of my resources. I had plenty of firewood stashed away. If I kept the fire going in a constant burn, the fuel should last me for about three or four days max. If I keep a small fire, I could stretch it to a week. However, a small fire can get blown over by a gust of wind. Worse case, I get a fist full of hot cinders thrown in my face along with ice crystals from the storm. Best case, that fist full of cinders get thrown elsewhere and I lose precious heat. Either way, I'm caught somewhere between fucked and really fucked. The fear of death started its slow march through my veins with panic not far behind. I gripped both of my knees and paced my breaths. With blood pounding in my ears, I looked up and stared out over the savanna. All that white nearly burned my eyes.

 **. . .**

Not much had changed since that morning. I just sat there, kept throwing wood in the fire while keeping an iron grip over my thoughts. I decided to keep a large fire going because the storm was getting stronger at a faster rate. Thoughts of home bounced around my head, along with my Mama's warnings about freezing cold. All I could do now was sit there and eat to keep my ticker running. I was glad I took all those cans, it gave me energy and a morale boost. The added bonus of the fire guaranteed my survival, and with an endless supply of water within arm's reach I was all set.

But that wasn't enough, no. Winter is a psychological war. The dreaded cold can drive anyone mad. Cabin fever will cripple the strongest souls, especially those who are alone and vulnerable. For me, all I have to do was keep my head screwed on tight while keeping my fire burning. Every gram of energy counts. I heard enough tales of men going mad, their families catching an ax to the forehead. Torn apart, eaten. People wandering in the snow, dropping and freezing into a popsicle. Sometimes they would take their clothes off when their bodies could no longer keep all that warm blood from their extremities, then the cold takes its time to suck it all out. Feeling hot may be the final nail in the coffin when you're on your last legs. So much for winter survival.

Sleep came rough that night, I had to get up every few hours just to keep the fire roaring. The winter storm roared and wailed above, tormenting me. The weather started to worsen by around midnight, that wail turned to a scream. I was surrounded by a screaming gray mass of cold, repelled by the heat of my fire. My head throbbed, the night was restless. When morning came I was tired as ever and my stomach was twisting itself into a knot. I came out here for comfort, now I'm miserable. Fuck me sideways. The storm reached the height of its power, I couldn't see the trees above my shelter. I grabbed my tablet, turned it on, and sent out a text message to my friends on how fucked I was. Next I sent some emails, explaining my plight, I even emailed the President of Faraday saying that I'm stuck in a hole fighting for my life. I didn't know what I was thinking. Looking back at it all, I realized I had panicked. In doing so I made my social circle panic. I even pulled out the communicator and hit the emergency call to get me, the first time I ever pressed that red rubber button.

I received a message back from Mark, it just read, _"How are you feeling?"_

That sparked my temper, an angry reply message followed. _"Are you fucking kidding me?! I'm scared shittless out here! I'm thinking I'm going to die in this frozen nightmare and you're asking me how I feel?!"_

 _"Okay, good to know you're still alive,"_ was his witty reply.

I hate you, Mark.

I then got a message from Gizmo, one of my rikachus, he said he received my call for help and is organizing a search party for me. Knowing Gizmo, I think he's panicking too. I haven't heard of artificial hearts having heart attacks before, but I can imagine Gizmo is having one over this. _"I'm sorry that I'm stressing you over this, G,"_ I replied to him.

 _"We're going to get you, Tesla! I promise! I swear I promise!"_

I shut off the tablet and packed it away. I then put on my backpack, since it helps keep some heat locked away and my tablet from freezing. I kept throwing in more fuel into the fire, using my empty cans to boil water. Trying my best to tune out the death song of the weather above.

When the second night came, I repeated the tasks of the first night. But I was tired, tormented, but I didn't give in. I know I'm close to the wire, but I didn't want to die this way. I wanted to live. Among all the bullshit and close calls I had over my adventures, this was the only moment in my long life that I cherished life, which surprised me. Thinking back at all the situations and events I've been through, none compared to this moment, because being caught in a winter storm is too damn simple. I had risked my life surviving all sorts of situations, and yet a winter storm is kicking my ass the most. Maybe it's because I have to sit here and wait it out, rather than be performing tasks and objectives to ensure I would survive. But I was stuck deep inside the Frontier Zone, surrounded by snow, inside of a shelter around the size of a small closet.

I let out a swear, cursing my bad luck, and damning Arceus to go fuck himself.

Now my temper was getting to me. I suppose anyone going mad over the cold gets angry, that explains the murderous rampage part. On normal circumstances I would keep a tight lid over my anger, but now that lid had blown off the pot. I sat there, swearing at the top of my lungs, cursing everybody whoever brought me misery. I never thought I could cuss off a storm as ferocious as the one over my head, I pretty much burned through an entire dictionary of swear words. After an hour, my temper cooled and slipped into regret. I felt sorry for myself, then started apologizing to everyone I brought misery too. I pretty much mentioned every name I knew by heart. My close friends, acquaintance, dead friends, pretty much everybody I cared about. A mixture of regret, self-hate, and lack of hope had sank some nails into my coffin. I kept adding fire, eating, doing all my task in automatic fashion.

The third morning came, to my relief the storm was starting to fade. I could see the trees above me again. I breathed. With everybody bad word and apology out of my system, I was ready to survive. I ate my breakfast, drank my tea, then turned my tablet back on. My inbox exploded with text messages and emails. I texted my usual contacts I was still alive, still waiting for somebody to pick me up. I turned off the tablet and it back into my backpack.

Next thing I knew a mountain of snow buried me alive.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

All that snow shot a stab of freezing cold through my fur. The shock squeezed a scream out of me. I burst of the snow and got as far away from the cold as possible, I threw off my backpack, shaking the cold off. By then the snow had melted and soaked me to the bone. I clawed at my chest, my ticker was just about ready to explode. I dropped onto the ground and gasped wheezing breaths, moaning with grief. When I calmed down, I sat up and got a look at the snow that tried to trap me. The snow had covered my fire, jets of steam shot out through the mound as the snow melted up the heat.. The entrance was sealed in, leaving only gaps around the edges. I panted for a moment, puzzled. Then I snickered, before breaking in all out laughter.

I should've known about the snow piling on top of my burrow, but I wasn't paying attention. The wind was hitting the face of the hill, forcing all that snow up. That snow stuck to the trees, which formed a mound above my shelter. The heat kept the mound of snow in check until it formed a hanging cliff. It soon became too heavy and decided to drop by and say hello. I laughed for what felt like forever, then my voice coughed.

I swore at Arceus for the one hundredth time.

With my source of heat gone, I got out my tablet, turned it on again, and send a message to EVERYBODY: " _HELP! I'M BURIED ALIVE! FIRE IS OUT, I'M FUCKED!"_

 **. . .**

Within hours, I saw my rescuers came digging for me. I never felt so happy to see people wearing bright orange coats emerging through the whiteout of the blizzard. Of course Mark was one of the rescuers, he came in and wrapped me up in a warm blanket before pulling me out of my pussy hole. I was freezing, numb, and lacking color. I thanked him in pokémon speech as they strapped me on board a snowmobile and drove me back home. There, Mark took delivery of giving me a nice hot bath in the kitchen sink, gave me hot cocoa, and sat me by the fire. Polly, my Dixierat family members, and my PRA friends all came in for a group hug. After I finished my hot cocoa, I asked Mark to carry me back to my bed, where Polly and Ray, my rikachu grandson, hopped in to keep me warm.

When the storm was over, over three dozen or so people knew what happened. FNN didn't report it on the TV, radio, or on their online website. I took a whole week off from work. The storm broke me, all because of a damn pile of snow.

A week later I was back at work in my teaching job. I didn't say to anyone why I was away, just that I didn't wanna talk about it. Carrie, a furry rikachu of mine, was willing to enforce that rule for me. After a few days, I felt guilty about it all and started talking to my students in private about it. They gave me words of encouragement, some even hugged me. I let them hold me, I was that depressed. From that point on, I swear I would never go out into the wilderness the moment it became slightly cold until I get warm weather. Once it was warm again, I went back out into the Frontier Zone and built a better burrow. This time I made a hut around the entrance, dug a better firepit, and chopped up more than enough firewood than I would ever need. I even buried a chest filled with fatwood, all sealed up in ziplock plastic bags. I left my tablet at home for most of the year, until Mark pressured me to bring it with me again. It took me six to eight months for me to recover, but at least I lived.

Ugh, I hate my fucking life.


End file.
